


Separate

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elladan’s up late.





	Separate

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Mild AU because I didn’t mention Celebrían. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Nowadays, Elrond gets the most work done in the evenings. He prefers the light of day, but his sunlit hours are better spent running after his children, and they don’t rest until the sun’s long set. He’s tried, many times, to put them to bed early, but they’re rambunctious little things that like to jump on their beds and drive their tutors mad. Elrond does the best he can to see to it that they tire out eventually—they get plenty of exercise, and he crams as many lessons into each day as he can. But by the end of it, there’s very little time left for just himself, and a lord needs all the time available.

So, alone in the starlight of his office, Elrond finally sets to work, answering the many letters that have been piled on his desks for weeks. Everything that can be delegated elsewhere has been, but some things require _his_ personal touch. He does his best to provide that.

And when his office door creaks open, he fears more work’s to come, because most of his staff will be asleep by now, and Erestor would only interrupt if the matter were urgent.

But when the door’s open, Erestor’s stern face doesn’t appear. Nothing does at all, and Elrond has to look down, lifting a little higher in his seat, to see the tiny figure that’s slipped through the crack. His eldest son—eldest by only a fraction of a second—peeks up at his father, clutching close a stumpy stuffed horse. Then Elladan slips inside and rushes across the floor, coming around the desk to hug Elrond’s leg. 

Elrond’s heart melts, as it always does when his children cling to him. He pets back Elladan’s hair on instinct. It takes him a second to regain himself and sigh, “Elladan... I am sorry. But you must sleep in your own room tonight. I know you miss your brother, but you must learn to have your own quarters eventually.”

“I know,” Elladan mutters, even though he’s been whining otherwise all week—they both have. They stayed for too long in Elrond’s bed, then graduated to their own, but separating them from each other proved far harder than separating them from him. On the one hand, it’s troublesome—part of his job as a parent is to help their slow, long transition into adulthood. But on the other hand, it does comfort Elrond to know that his twins will likely be close for a long, long time. He knows well how beneficial it is to have a loving twin. 

He sees some of himself in Elladan, some of Elros even, and much of Elrohir. Elladan lifts the horse up over Elrond’s knee and says, “But I need to see Elrohir—Erestor gave me his horse toy by accident, and he can’t sleep without it.”

Elrond lifts a brow and asks, “ _Was_ it an accident? Or were you two pretending to be each other again?”

Caught, Elladan’s plump cheeks flush, but he chirps insistently, “No!” It’s almost certainly a lie, and that does give Elrond pause. As young as Elladan is, Elrond would have his sons know right from wrong at any age. But he also knows how dearly they love their little games, and tricking those that watch over them is their favourite. Thus far, Elrond is the only one who can _always_ tell them apart. He no longer dresses them differently to help others, because they only wind up covertly switching and all the further confusing those around them. 

For example, Elladan is currently wearing the green pajamas embroidered with Elrohir’s name, while Elrond is sure Elrohir’s in the blue. Solely because it’s too late to go over their favourite trick again, Elrond plucks the toy from Elladan’s little hands. 

“I will give it to him,” he promises.

Elladan’s quick to offer, “I can, Ada!”

But Elrond chuckles, “Nice try.”

Then he bends from his chair to scoop Elladan up into his arms. He dreads the day when he’ll no longer be able to do so, but for now, Elladan is small and light and easy to cradle against his chest. Elrond returns the toy for Elladan to hold as he rises, and he muses, “Now, let us first get you back to bed...”


End file.
